At Night She Sleeps
by Brambleshadow of WindClan
Summary: "They were together. She held his hand and it broke my heart. They were forever, but she turned her back and he was gone. At night she sleeps. Is she dreaming of him while she's making love to me? At night she sleeps. She keeps calling his name. Imagine what it's doing to me."


**I don't own Rose, the Meta-Crisis Doctor, or "At Night She Sleeps." They belong to the BBC and Night Ranger, respectively.**

**First heard this on an iPod belonging to one of my maths teachers (don't ask) and at first thought it could fit Rose and Mickey but after a few more listens thought it better fit Duplicate Ten and Rose.**

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**"At Night She Sleeps"**

_ Living alone in her own little room  
__In her own little world, oh yeah.  
__Walking alone down her own little streets  
__While the city's asleep, oh yeah.  
__Nobody knows her.  
__She's a lonely girl in a lonely world._

Rose Tyler, exhausted from a hard day's work at Torchwood yet unable to sleep, decided she'd had enough of just lying around in bed trying to rest her eyes and swung her legs over the side of the bed, careful not to wake any of her family to the meta-crisis Doctor—the Doctor who was currently in a room just off her own. For the sake of simplicity they called him John Smith: It was easier than referring to him as the Doctor or the Doctor's duplicate all the time. He had been the one to suggest the name in the first place, since Rose's Doctors had used it as an alias several times.

Anyway, since she couldn't sleep, she might as well clear her head with a night walk and some fresh air. Rose stripped; quickly pulled on jeans, a T-shirt, and a hoodie; slipped on sneakers; and was out of the manor in under two minutes.

It wasn't long before she was walking the London streets. Even though her and John had been here together for a little less than a month, she sometimes caught herself searching the sky for a familiar blue box.

The rest of the city might have been sleeping; but John, back at the manor, knew Rose was gone: He'd heard her leave. He needed more sleep now than he did when he was a full Time Lord but less than a human; and besides, his senses were more in tune with Rose than with any other human being.

Who was she really thinking of when she looked at him? John wondered. _Can't she see . . .?_

_ At night she sleeps; all alone she weeps  
__With her head on her pillow, yeah.  
__With tears in her eyes,  
__She remembers his smile  
__As she studies the photograph._

It was at least a half hour before Rose returned—he may be half-human, but he still had his time sense and could still see time curling around every single being on this planet. That was some comfort, that he still had his Time Lord abilities even when he was half-human and in a new universe.

The sound of Rose crying reached his ears, and his single heart clenched in sympathy. Without really thinking he moved toward his door, opened the door to her room slightly—just enough to peek in.

Rose's head was resting on her pillow, and John could see that her hand was curled around a photograph of her and his Time Lord counterpart. If he narrowed his eyes he could just make out that it had been taken after his counterpart had saved 1953 London from the Wire and restored Rose. The two of them were smiling—no, grinning would be the proper word—but he couldn't remember who had taken the photo. Not that it really mattered in this case; besides, it was 1953 and Technicolor hadn't been invented yet. Photos and television were still in black-and-white. All that aside, Rose—_his Rose_—was crying. John wanted to go to her, comfort her, but he knew she still saw him as an imposter: her Doctor yet _not _her Doctor.

_ They were together.  
__She held his hand and it broke my heart.  
__They were forever,  
__But she turned her back and he was gone._

That day when they'd returned to Bad Wolf Bay, Rose and the Doctor had kept finding each other's hand the entire time they were on the TARDIS—and even when they were facing Davros on the Dalek _Crucible_. John wasn't blind—and he had all of the Doctor's memories, after all.

Rose had promised him her forever, but the Doctor had left her on a Norwegian beach with his double. John knew how much that had hurt her—but he knew why the Doctor had done it. He'd tried warning her, after all, but she hadn't listened. _"I don't age. I regenerate. You humans grow old and wither and die. Imagine watching that happen to someone you lo— You can spend the rest of your life with me, but I can't spend mine with you. I have to live on, alone. That's the curse of the Time Lords."_

When the Doctor had left her for the last time, John had been there to hold her hand. At least he'd been able to say what the Doctor hadn't, had finally been able to kiss Rose when she was just _Rose _and not under any alien influence.

Before he realized what he was doing, he had further opened the door to her room and was sitting next to her on the bed. "Rose?" he asked softly, one hand reaching out to stroke her hair.

"Doctor?" The name left her lips automatically as she leaned into his touch, curved her body into his.

"Yeah, Rose, it's me." John hated having to deceive her like this, but as long as she didn't feel his single heartbeat . . . Maybe . . .

"Dance with me." Her brown eyes, red from crying, were half-closed as she studied him.

Unsure of what else to do, he kissed her softly, hand slowly moving to undress her. It took him a few seconds to realize she was doing the same to him.

_ At night she sleeps.  
__Is she dreaming of him  
__While she's making love to me?  
__At night she sleeps.  
__She keeps calling his name.  
__Imagine what it's doing to me._

He couldn't help wondering just exactly who Rose was thinking of even as she made love to him. Was she dreaming of him—John—or the Doctor?

John shoved the thought away as he explored her body, discovering how to best bring her pleasure. Rose moaned when he teased the sensitive skin on the inside of her thighs, tracing Gallifreyan symbols with his very talented tongue.

"Oh, yes. Doctor . . ."

John froze momentarily before resuming his activities, finding her moist heat. His heart broke inside, dying a little each time Rose called _his _name.

The Doctor. Not him. It would never be him, he knew that now.

John thought sadly, _Can't you see you've got the best of me? Oh, can't you see? You're bringin' on the heartbreak, bringin' on the heartache. You're bringin' on the heartbreak, bringin' on the heartache. Can't you see? Can't you see . . . ? No, hang on—that's Def Leppard. But the point still stands._

When Rose snapped out of whatever delusion this was, they would handle it. But for now he would help her in whichever way he could.

No matter how much it hurt him.

_ At night she sleeps.  
Is she dreaming of him  
__While she's making love to me?  
__At night she sleeps.  
__She keeps calling his name.  
__Imagine what it's doing to me.  
__At night she sleeps . . ._


End file.
